


Someone's Father, Someone's Son

by joliemariella



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, No shipping, father/son relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 03:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15064271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joliemariella/pseuds/joliemariella
Summary: Father's day is almost as hard for Hank as the anniversary of Cole's death. Luckily, Connor anticipates this and steps up to the plate to distract his surrogate father from his pain with a new contender for Detroit's best (and certainly most hygienic) burger.





	Someone's Father, Someone's Son

**Author's Note:**

> Just a oneshot I had an idea for on father's day while I was at work. Took me awhile to actually find the time to make it happen, but at least I got it out before the end of the month! 8'D  
> Hope you guys enjoy reading about these dorks as much as I liked writing about them! Make sure to drop a review and let me know what your favorite part was, I love hearing that from my readers!

It'd been a surprisingly quiet day when Hank had gone into the precinct to wrap up some paperwork. None of the usual suspects around the place had stopped to bother him, or even to shoot the shit. In retrospect, it should have set off all sorts of alarms bells, but the detective had been sporting the devil's own hangover that morning, so he'd simply counted it as a blessing and kept his head down as he plowed through his grunt work.

He'd managed to get done early and made a beeline for home after a brief stop at the store for a few things he needed around the house. He hadn't so much as glanced at a calendar until he was closing the refrigerator, cold beer in hand, and absently noticed that he'd never actually changed it over from May. He did so out of habit, and immediately regretted it when he checked the date and saw the holiday spelled out in tiny font at the top of the box.

Father's Day.

The realization hit Hank like a punch to the gut, leaving him winded and vaguely nauseous.

He'd actually managed to forget. He wasn't sure how; probably some sort of alcohol induced willful ignorance, but the fact that everyone at the precinct had been treading on eggshells around him all day finally clicked and left the detective feeling like he wanted to punch something. Not because of his co-workers concern (wariness?), but out of the sheer, helpless rage of it all. Almost four years later and even the smallest stray thought of Cole could leave Hank feeling gutted, like there was some open, pulsing wound at the core of him that would never heal no matter how much time passed.

A soft huff from somewhere in the vicinity of his hip managed to drag the man's attention from the calendar hanging innocuously on the front of his refrigerator and down to see Sumo seated on the linoleum at his feet. The sight of his furry companion was enough to make Hank ease the too-tight grip he had on the neck of his beer bottle before reaching out with his free hand to give the dog's floppy ears a fond ruffling.

“Hey, bud. Dinner time, huh?” he said, feeling suddenly tired. He hesitated for a moment, then put his beer back in the fridge before fetching the kibble from its place in the cabinet and filling the dog's huge dish. While Sumo dug in, Hank grabbed up his water bowl and refilled that in the sink while he was at it, only to slosh half of it down the drain when the doorbell rang unexpectedly.

Sumo let out a single bark as his head jerked up from his food and he looked around. The doorbell rang a second time and Hank gave a start, realizing he’d just been staring at the door as the water bowl in his hand overflowed. The detective turned off the water and then placed the dripping dish on the floor next to Sumo’s food bowl as the dog barked again.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up and eat, I got it,” Hank groused as he wiped his damp hands off on his jeans and made his way to the door.

His hand went instinctively to the pistol he still had holstered on his left side under the jacket he’d yet to take off since returning home. The doorbell rang a third time as the detective leaned in and peered through the peephole to see a familiar face that dragged all the tension of the moment right out of him.

“Goddammit, Connor, quit trying to break my damn doorbell,” Hank groused as he pulled open his door and faced the android directly.

“Would you believe me if I said I was simply inspecting it for potential defect?” Connor asked, the corners of his mouth turning up subtly as he spoke. Ever since going full ‘deviant’ nearly a year ago, the android’s forays into humor had increased by several orders of magnitude, though with mixed results.

“No,” Hank replied blandly. “What are you doing way the hell out here?”

“Well,” Connor said, lifting a bag to show the detective, “I happened to come into possession of some groceries and thought you might like them.”

Hank shot the android a look of disbelief and asked, “By ‘happened to come into possession of’ do you mean you went out of your way to buy them, or are you making the most boring possible entrance into a life of crime ever?”

“Well, if we’re being technical, according to U.S. law I’m already a hardened criminal for aiding and abetting a revolution with a commuted sentence until such a time as an official agreement is reached between the federal government and android kind.” A snort of amusement escaped Hank and Connor’s smile widened. “Are you going to let me in?”

The human pretended to give it  some thought, then stepped aside and waved him through. “Yeah, alright. Guess I better encourage any inclination you have to actually use the front door while I got it.”

Connor laughed and stepped inside before Hank closed it behind him against the cool autumn air. “You have to admit, my daring window entrance was pretty exciting.”

“I wouldn’t know, I didn’t actually see it,” Hank drawled as he took Connor’s bag from him and went into the kitchen while the android shed his blazer and hung it on a hook by the door. “I just had to clean up after it.”

Connor followed after him, but rather than unpacking his bag, he made straight for Sumo and greeted him the same way he always did. The android’s affection for his dog was something that never ceased to amuse Hank, and he watched from the corner of his eye as Connor patted the saint bernard’s big head, then ran a hand along his back before returning to scratch the animal’s ears in the way he’d learned he liked. The dog broke his attention from his food long enough to nose the android briefly, making Connor smile in that quietly pleased way he had.

“So, what’s the occasion?” Hank asked casually, arms crossed over his chest as he turned to watch his guest more directly. 

Had Connor come because of the date? That had to be it, right? The man was an android, after all; he had a calendar built in, he  _ always  _ knew what day it was. He hadn’t visited on the anniversary of Cole’s death, Hank didn’t think he’d quite dared. To be fair, he wasn’t an easy person to be around come October eleventh. It was why he took the day off every year, and the Captain gave it to him without question, allowing him to drown his sorrows in peace and solitude.

Father’s day, though… maybe Connor felt a little more confident about intruding on father’s day to distract Hank from his self-destructive tendencies than he did on the anniversary.

The android straightened and stepped forward to unpack the bag he’d brought with him. “Well, I recalled how you were lamenting that Kayes still hasn’t returned to the city to re-open his food truck the other day,” he said. “I got a pretty good look at his methodology when we went last year, so I thought I might try to replicate the best burger in Detroit.”

Hank’s eyebrows went up in surprise as the android started laying out his ingredients on the counter. “Pretty tall order,” he mused, trying and failing to suppress a smile as Connor rolled up the sleeves of his neatly pressed collared shirt and started rummaging through the cabinets for the necessary tools. “I think your hygiene might be too good to manage it.”

The android chuckled again. “I’ll settle for the best  _ hygenic  _ burger in Detroit, then.”

The detective snorted again and scratched absently at his beard in an attempt to muffle another smile. The gut wrenching pain he’d experienced at the realization of the date had become muffled in the face of Connor’s presence and easy smile, and it wasn’t the first time. Hank always experienced a pang of guilt whenever he recognized the soothing effect Connor had on him when memories of the son he’d lost had him at his lowest. It felt disloyal of him, somehow, like maybe he was unconsciously trying to replace Cole, though objectively he knew that wasn’t the case.

Connor had managed to scale the emotional walls Hank had erected around himself in the wake of his son’s death all on his own merit, after all. He wasn’t just brilliant (he  _ was  _ an android), but he was a kind and genuine person who had put everything on the line, first for his mission, and then for the revolution. Watching him grow from calculating machine into a man that felt deeply for the people (androids and humans alike) around him had been wonderful to behold.

At the end of it all, when the dust had finally settled, Hank had felt so damn  _ proud  _ of Connor, and the sensation had yet to fade almost a year later.

Remembering this fact always helped ease the guilt when Hank was low, and did so again now as he turned to the refrigerator and pulled out the beer he’d returned to the shelf earlier. The detective twisted the top off and tossed it aside, then dropped into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and put down his drink before stripping out of his jacket. He draped it across the back of his seat, then slid out of his pistol holster and put that on the chair next to him.

“What’d you do today?” Hank asked as he settled back more comfortably and took a sip of his beer while Connor worked, mixing ground beef with various spices the detective was pretty confident would never have seen the inside of the Chicken Feed truck. He didn’t object, though, figuring he might as well let the android have his fun considering he was getting a free meal out of it. “You had a meeting with the Jericho kids, didn’t you?”

Connor glanced back over his shoulder at the man, lips quirking up at his nickname for the revolution leaders he had come to know so well. Coming from anyone else it might have been insulting, but the android knew his friend meant it with fondness. He  _ was  _ a great deal older than all of them in both looks and actual years, so it made sense. It was definitely better than ‘those assholes’, which was what most people got labeled as by the cranky detective.

“I did,” Connor replied, then turned his gaze back to his work as he took a moment to turn on the stove to preheat the pan he’d dug out of the cupboard. “Things are still progressing… slowly,” he continued after a moment, “But Markus is optimistic.”

“Is that guy ever anything  _ but  _ optimistic?” Hank asked.

The android looked at him again, weighing the tone of his words against the wry twist of the detective’s mouth to determine his mood on the subject.

Hank had been significantly more sober than Connor had anticipated finding him, which was a pleasant surprise. The android was perfectly aware of the date and what it likely meant for his friend’s mental health, so he took it as a good sign that he hadn’t had to use the spare key Hank had given him to get in and forcefully sober the detective up before making him a meal.

Humans, Connor knew from his programming and additional research performed in his spare time, often found comfort in food. It was something over which they bonded, and despite being unable to eat himself, the android thought that maybe the act of cooking for his friend would allow him some small piece of that connection. 

Though he felt a little selfish thinking it, Connor had to admit that spending the evening with Hank was as much for his own peace of mind as it was for the detective’s. 

He worried about the man, after all. He knew Hank likely had suicidal tendencies, though he hadn’t seen much evidence of them for quite some time. He  _ seemed  _ happier than he had been when they first met, but the idea that it might all be a facade ate at Connor, especially on days of particular import to Hank, such as the anniversary of Cole’s death, or father’s day.

He hadn’t been able to bring himself to intrude on Hank’s solitude last October for the anniversary, and he’d regretted it ever since. Not because anything had happened (thank goodness), but because, for the first time, Connor had felt a coward. He’d been afraid of what Hank might say to him if he showed up on his doorstep that night, that he would be presuming more than was allowed on a relationship that meant more to him than any other.

It was a strange thought, considering  _ what  _ he was, but Connor had long since accepted Hank as a sort of father figure in his life. The detective wasn’t exactly a role model he aspired to emulate, per say, but under his prickly demeanor was a good man that always tried to do what was right by others, if not by himself. The man had taken a lot of hard knocks in his life, and despite being a hyper-intelligent sentient being, Connor still felt Hank had a lot to teach him about the world, even if his advice had to be taken with a grain of salt (or an entire spoonful of sugar). His approval meant more than anything to the android, and seeing the man look anything remotely close to content always made him happy.

Hank would probably laugh him out of the house if he ever admitted as much, but the thought of losing the connection they’d forged terrified Connor.

“Markus has his low days,” the android answered as he made eye contact with the detective briefly before turning away again, “Just like anyone else. He doubts the choices he’s made, wonders if he’s on the right path.”

Hank was quiet, expression turning thoughtful as he watched Connor’s back, the android’s movements precise and without hesitation in the way only a machine’s could be. For all that, though, it’d been a long time since the detective had thought of Connor as anything but a person; one that was as insightful as ever.

“There’s a game starting here in a few, you wanna watch?” Hank invited as Sumo ambled towards Connor and settled at his feet in hopes of stray scraps finding their way to the floor the way they often did when the detective cooked. The poor dog had yet to catch on to the fact that Connor almost never dropped  _ anything. _

“Sure,” the other man said with a bright smile over his shoulder. “I’m almost done here if you want to turn it on.”

The burger, it turned out, was fucking amazing.

“Holy shit,” Hank said after managing to swallow his first mouthful and rapidly going in for his second. It didn’t taste the same as the ones he used to get at Chicken Feed, but it was damn good, and he said as much.

Connor positively beamed at the praise. “Really?”

“Hell yeah!” the detective said enthusiastically. “Tastes different from Kayes’, but it’d definitely give him a run for his damn money if he were still in town.”

“Well, I can certify that  _ my _ burger won’t give you food poisoning, if that makes any difference in the competition,” Connor said with a grin as he made himself more comfortable on the sofa while Hank continued to eat, plate balanced on his knees.

The detective nearly choked on a mouthful as he laughed. “Makes it a winner in my book,” he managed eventually after taking a swig of beer to clear his airway. 

The basketball game was a good one. The teams were equally matched, and it went down to the wire as the timer ticked down, though Hank, surprisingly, drifted off to sleep in the last five minutes. Connor actually jumped when the first snore escaped the man, taken completely off guard, though his surprise quickly turned to amusement.

When the game finished, Connor took Hank’s plate and empty beer bottle into the kitchen and proceeded to clean up as quietly as he could manage. Sumo appeared at his feet again during the process, and Connor fed him a dog biscuit as consolation for the fact that he’d never actually dropped any food for him to clean up during the preparation. He patted the dog’s head fondly, then moved back into the living room where Hank continued to snore.

The android considered the man for a moment, then turned off the television and grabbed up the throw pillows not currently trapped under the detective’s body. He placed them on the coffee table where they’d be out of the way, then took Hank’s ankles and used them to angle the man so he was stretched out across the sofa rather than slouched in one corner. The detective barely stirred during the process, which brought a smile to Connor’s face before he grabbed a throw blanket off the nearby recliner and proceeded to drape it across his friend’s prone form.

After that, Connor did a tour of the house to make sure the windows and back door were all locked before stopping at the sofa again. After a moment’s consideration, the android left Hank a note explaining that he’d put the leftovers in the fridge, as well as the outcome of the night’s game, then turned to consider the man himself.

The change of angle meant that Hank was, blessedly, no longer snoring, and Connor took the moment to study his features. He seemed… peaceful, which brought the android some relief. He’d hoped to take the detective’s mind off of the past, and he took the fact that Hank had managed to drift into a seemingly untroubled rest as a sign of at least a partial victory.

Eventually, Connor rested his hand briefly on the other man’s shoulder, then, in a low voice, said, “Good night, Hank,” and let himself out, locking the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, hope you enjoyed!  
> Make sure to drop a review and let me know what your favorite part was, I love hearing that from my readers!


End file.
